


Elsewhere...

by WinchesterNimrod



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013), Naruto, Smallville, Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Anti-Hero, Arkham Asylum, Attempt at Humor, BAMF Hatake Kakashi, Batfamily Feels, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Bilingual Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, Dimension Travel, Dubious Morality, Epic Friendship, Hallucinations, Hatake Kakashi Has Issues, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bruce Wayne, Suicide Attempt, with lots of murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-02-27 18:52:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterNimrod/pseuds/WinchesterNimrod
Summary: Kakashi dies and wakes up elsewhere...In short, he's not impressed. Jason can relate.[Basically, two assholes decide to instigate a murderous friendship that will knock the DC universe off its moral axis.]





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> plot bunny was hopping madly so i set it free~!

"English"

" _Japanese_ "

.

When Kakashi dies, he wakes up to find to himself splayed inside a dumpster.

Intact, bloody and not in Konohagakure.

It was the smell that sinks his reality. The stink of ozone, piss and decomposing trash shoots up his nostrils in a barrage of violence. No corners of the Nine Lands he's infiltrated smelt like that.

Obito's Sharingan burns to life like warm iron in the shadows of the alleyway. Rats skittle across edges of brick and cement. Pigeons flutter on edges of rooftops above him. Further down the alley, a homeless man with facial bone structure foreign to Kakashi snores. Neither sentient beings display a chakra system.

" _Kai!_ "

Pigeons startle and swoop to the dark sky above. Kakashi watch them go, uncomfortable weight collapsing in on him.

After Obito, Rin, Minato and Kushina, Kakashi evolved into a secluded shinobi. Equipped with nothing but himself to lean on. Kakashi reminds himself of this, nocking back hopeless thoughts of teammates and hitting the rooftops to scape out new territory. Right now his top priority was figuring out where he was and staying alive.

He was in a city, Kakashi discovers. Screwing his eyes against the glare of bright, angular buildings. Each heaped up to the sky in a collection of sizes. Monochrome and metal and brick; a few looked to be inspired by churches of Jashin.

Igniting Obito's eye, he scans building by building. Hunched stone creatures rested on most rooftop corners, others were lit by angry neo signs of illegible characters. Kakashi gathers after some time he's at the outer edges of the city. Urbanized region primarily for the lower class.

Examining the civilian culture, Kakashi notes a mixed profile and decides he won't have to change his appearance too much to assimilate. Weariness begins to creep over him. Learning this world will take time.

.

The night gave Kakashi an advantage as he stalks through town. Needing to find a temporary basecamp to recuperate. Dying and being resurrected had instilled a soft pressure behind the eyes he couldn't ignore for much longer.

After swiping some clothes off a laundry line from a nearby rooftop, he had ditched his bloody uniform apart from the trousers and mask in his dumpster. Now he wore a nondescript grey t-shirt, brown hoodie pulled up to hide his hair and black socks. Konoha's headband was twisted around so the knot was covering his eye. Weapons were concealed and all that left was pickpocketing some money. Currency here was yet unknown so Kakashi settled for pickpocketing a couple people and letting the woman behind reception desk figure it out for him.

The motel he decided on the one screaming 'no questions asked'. It was a two story building sandwiched between a whorehouse with a red neon lady dancing inside a martini glass and a building with side of its wall smashed off. Now there was an interesting story. The motel had a metal sign hanging off its wall with similar characters from the city. Beneath the large characters he read:

' _Blue Bird Inn'_

So his language was also used in this world...

Walking up the steps leading inside, Kakashi passes a pair of older men dressed in stained rags. They smelt like drugs and liquor and shouts something at him that Kakashi ignores. He opens the wooden door held together by rusted nails and makes his way in. The interior is cramped and reminds him of the garbage bin. In both smell and appearance. The lady behind the desk is smoking a cigarette held between fingers resembling talons. Though clearly aged, she holds similar facial features like himself and Kakashi for once, feels a semblance of relief brought on by fatigue.

" _I'm looking to rent a single room_ ," he says through the thin plastic separating them.

Dark eyes drink him in, apathetic and slightly guarded. " _How many nights?"_ Her tone held a foreign tint to it he couldn't identify.

" _How many can this buy?_ " Kakashi brings out five wallets and hands them over through a slight hole in plastic above the wooden desk. The clear signs of theft doesn't so much as make her blink.

After a minute of examination and counting, she replies. " _Five._ "

Kakashi takes the offered key and makes his way up the staircase enclosed to the wall on his right. Attached to the key ring is a piece of blue plastic scratched with the number 19 on it.

.

Room 19 is the size of his old apartment. Small, with a single bed and tiny bathroom. There is no kitchen. Kakashi didn't expect one. Above the bed is a window overlooking the street.

The walls are thin and he can hear the room next to his fill with moans and slaps of flesh. Across the hall a man's crazed murmuring slips out. The room beneath stained floorboards is a womans' laughter and a mans' anger. He can hear music cover the 'going on's' in the brothel next door through bricks and wall plaster. Shouts from outside and alleyway muggings involve themselves in the white noise of this worlds' sickness.

Kakashi spends time taking care of setting traps. With the minuscule amount of weaponry he has left on his person, it leaves much to be desired for. He resolves to locate and visit an artillery store first thing tomorrow along with a library. Knowing his language is also apart of this foreign world gives him hope of assimilating quicker than he originally thought.

Finished, he turns the light off. Room drowning in darkness except from the thin glow of street light through the small window.

He steers clear of the window out of habit and takes to sitting in a corner of the room. Position making him invisible to whomever charges in upon first sight - through either window or door. Kunai resting on his thing in a loose grip, Kakashi steadies his breathing. Drinking in the sounds of the night, familiarizing himself with them before slipping into sleep.

.

Scraping alerts Kakashi to awareness. It's different from the noise he had quickly acquainted himself with and all too quickly his dreams of home are tarnished.

ANBU training keeps Kakashi still, grip tightening around his kunai in provision. The noise comes from his door. To be more exact, the lock.

Somebody was trying to pick it.

Focusing chakra to his ears and nose, Kakashi picks out two sets of feet. Unstable and heavy. The scent they carry pinpoints it to the two men he had ignored outside ' _Blue Bird'._  Obviously, ignoring them was the wrong choice to take.

Whatever their intensions are now. It wasn't pure.

Resolving himself from tension, Kakashi waits five minutes for the door to open.

The first man steps inside and trips wire. Releasing a small shuriken that slices across the air. Severing his trachea in a clean swipe.

It happened so quickly that the man doesn't know what's happened until his lungs fill with blood. Hands come up to divided skin in shock, knees buckling underneath him and blubbering incoherently. The other man behind stares in petrified terror. He manages a whimper before a kunai drives itself into his eye with a flick of the wrist. For a moment the man develops a dumb expression. Suddenly weak, he collapses forward. Weight of his fall hammering Kakashi's kunai further into his skull.

Well, that takes care of that.

Standing, Kakashi strides across the room and drags the men in by their collars, shutting the door with his foot. He then proceeds to strip his duvet of its cover. Splaying it out on the floor besides the gurgling man and rolls him into it.

Thirty seconds pass. Gurgling stops.

The man is dead.

"Excuse me," Kakashi apologises when collecting his kunai out of the man's eye socket. Gently placing his fingertips on either side of the blade as he pulls, taking care for the eyeball to not follow.

He joins his friend in the sheet.

Switching the light on, Kakashi makes swift work of cleaning puddles of blood and wrapping the men in the duvet cover.

Kakashi choses to store them in the bathroom.

.


	2. Two

"English"

_"Japanese"_

.

Sleep was no longer an option.

Kakashi didn't know why the two men targeted him precisely. His room took more effort to get into and out of than the others. Being at the top floor and last in the hallway, singling him out meant they had a beef with him. Kakashi was certain him simply ignoring them wasn't what kindled their ire. And he didn't miss the familiar look of starved revenge in their shadowed eyes. He used to be like that himself.

They thought he was with someone important.

 _Disappointment's a bitch_ , he could hear Obito say.

Kakashi swallows

Staring at the two bodies in the bathroom, he mutters, "What an inconvenience," and closes the door. It was unclear whether more setbacks would occur after these two idiots, so he takes to setting another trap and waiting.

Two deaths in one night, this world was turning out to be a presumptuous asshole.

.

Sunrise was drawing near when Kakashi decides to hit the streets.

Passing lady at reception, he greets her with a courteous, " _Good morning_." Enjoying the taut silence he receives.

She looks fearful. Circles darkening under her harrowed eyes. Good.

Now she knew not to meddle in his business.

The street lamps were still on when he steps out into cool morning air. Overall, nothing went unchanged from last night. Thugs were still warming patches of alleyways, busy cutting deals with civilians. Large body guards outside the brothel eyeing people who were slowly coming in, stumbling out or mumbling by. How gloomy.

In the distance he hears a police siren.

 _Very_  gloomy.

Kakashi pockets his hands in his grey hoodie and strolls through the streets. Making himself out to be a useless target under predatory eyes that follow him. Looking for a score.

.

The library reminds Kakashi of a Jashin temple he's seen in the border between Suna and the land of Water. Stone steps leading up to glass doors. Practically barricaded by giant sandstone pillars extended from a roof containing a domain of statue creatures. Looming like jaguars about to pounce on a mouse. Kakashi is appropriately impressed.

The doors are locked.

No bother.

He takes the side window instead.

Slipping inside, Kakashi goes to work. A handful of books are scribed in his own language. He picks dictionaries on the language "English" along with other self-learning books about it. Appearing to be the most popular language amongst others.

With his books spread out in a pile in front of him, Kakashi sits cross-legged on top of a large hanging pendant light. Safely hidden above the vast library below.

.

With Obito's Sharingan activated, Kakashi becomes fluent in English and Mandarin. Two of the most common dialects he's come to notice by the amount of publicised textbooks on shelves.

"Good evening," Kakashi tests himself against the librarian. The older man glances up from his book behind an oak desk, eyebrow arched.

He was not good at English.

The accent was passable at best but horrendously jagged. He sounded like a toddler learning consonants, not a native.

 _Deplorable_ , ANBU training tells him.

He agrees.

.

Kakashi spends the rest of the day 'people watching'. He understood what they were saying perfectly, it's just they didn't understand him. The positioning of the tongue and lips was what Kakashi notices being the big differences between his language and theirs'. Deciding to latch onto a certain cultured looking individual, Kakashi stalks the man. Sharingan observing everything.

Later that evening, before everything went to hell in a hand basket, Kakashi recites the man's voice over and over again. Working through language habits and tics until it feels natural.

.

The scraping was more conspicuous this time. Expert hands tinkering the dingy lock, encouraging it to open. If Kakashi were any other human being, he would have lost the sound amongst nightlife.

Kakashi wasn't any human.

When the door opens, a woman steps inside. Ankle tugging thin, near invisible wire. Discharging a single shuriken that slashes a gruesome line ear to ear. Blood falls along with her.

Kakashi locates three men directly behind the collapsed woman and five further down the hall. Armed with handguns he familiarized himself with not two hours ago at a local – if somewhat dodgy - weapons dealer. The woman that attended him gave a quick, simple run down on different types of weapons he'll see in this in this part of town. Not enough for him to get cocky, but decent enough to be street smart when encountering a sticky situation.

 _This_ , Kakashi assures himself,  _is a very sticky situation_.

The woman didn't have any shuriken or kunai of the sort, but she did have tactical knives. He was very conscious of the extra weight in his belt.

Kakashi doesn't bother using jutsu, he simply travels through the darkness. Severing carotid arteries in a matter of seconds. Too fast for civilian eyes to follow, they scarcely recognize his presence until they're breathing back blood.

ANBU training slams down the dishonour of murdering someone lacking proper capabilities in defending themselves. Survival was most important.

(His family back home needs him alive.)

The smell of fear in the hallway fills Kakashi's head as he stands openly in the hallway. Face remaining hidden under his hood. Kakashi's eye take in the five people opposite him. Weapons drawn in shaky grips, expressions masking the pissing fear he can smell on them. Like their fallen comrades splayed gasping around him, they were wearing cheap black and white suits.

Who, exactly, do they believe he is?

A shout - a war cry, is all warning Kakashi's given before the hallway plaster is torn with bullets. He ducks into his room, sighing when he hears them advance. They come quick and stupid, charging into his room as a pack. Kakashi stays backed besides the door and slips out behind when they enter. Snaking the last person with him by the collar and disarming her easily.

Closing the door, he holds the petrified woman against the marred wall by her throat. Listening attentively as his attackers inside provoke numerous traps he set for an occasion like this. Startled shouts, wet slashes, gurgling and heady drops of bodies later, Kakashi has to forcibly kick his door open against a collapsed body.

" _Ooh, boy_."

He observes the mess like one does returning home to find their dog pooped on the carpet. Massacre, was one word to describe what he was seeing. Acknowledging he didn't have much time before the authorities arrive, Kakashi raises the gun he stole to the woman's head. Applying slight pressure around her throat. Thumb pressing into soft flesh.

"Help me," he requests gently in English. Perfected accent coming through like silk.

"Wh-what?" the woman was crying. Trembling like a cornered kitten with an open, hunted expression.

"Help me understand, dear lady," he continues. Digging the muzzle into her forehead. She was awfully young, Kakashi observes. A good foot or more shorter than he was. Fresh faced liked Sakura was before the Akatsuki attacked. "Why you attacked unprovoked."

He must have said something funny because now she was laughing. Fear overridden by something deep inside her. Anger. A pitiful attempt to regain control of herself.

He remembers that feeling.

"You're joking," an edge of bitterness and an onslaught of hate. "You must be, you sick twisted  _fuck_."

"This gun aimed at your head isn't convincing enough, I gather?" Kakashi cocks his head, pretending to consider. "Alright then." With no tenderness, he hauls her around to face the slaughter inside his room. Gun rubbing the back of her head in warning.

The woman – child - stumbles over a leg in the doorway and almost collapses when witnessing the death of her friends.

"Dan…Sia…"

Names? Unusual.

The girl tried to spin round to break his grip, screaming and sobbing in hysteria.

"You monster!" Crack audible in her much too young voice, "You Yakuza fr -"

 _Mafia_?

Kakashi twists her to face him, gun still trained. She shrinks back, collapsing back against one of her friend's bodies. Splash of blood painting his feet.

Oh, he still needs shoes.

"You're under the assumption I'm Yakuza." It's not a question, more of an edging of confirmation.

Catching his look, her trembles worsen. "You mean…" a tired laugh, "you're not?"

Kakashi rolls his shoulders, flicking on the gun's safety and lowering it. "My dear, whatever gave you that bizarre assumption?"

.

The underground climate was rife with gang war and disputes since the vigilante Red Hood appeared last year. Kakashi learns from the young woman that Yakuza especially have been wrecking havoc amongst local gangs. Just last week a drive by shooting killed a large portion of civilian population in the area. The woman's little brother was one of the victims. Along with the two men last night who had been staking out for possible Yakuza members. Their local gang was willing to hire them as a sort of compensation for their loss.

And Kakashi was not only alone, but also speaking Japanese in the open. Killing people in the open too.

Damn.

Kakashi bows to the woman in thanks before disappearing down the tattered hotel hallway. Passing reception, Kakashi pauses to stare at the lady he had known for all but a day, slack jawed in her seat. Dumb expression painted red by a single bullet hole caved in her forehead.

This world…

Sirens in the distance grow in volume, pushing Kakashi outside into the night.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the "Dear lady" stuff was speech habit he memorized off of the man he stalked. It's only temporary until he's interacted with other people and becomes confident in the English language.


	3. Three

James Gordon wasn’t often called to crime scenes.

 

Being the Commissioner required time behind the desk. Processing and coordinating various division's activities, investigations, warrants. Discussions with select communities in Gotham about police brutality, injustice, vigilantes and discrimination. He doesn’t have time to take a piss break let alone visit a murder scene.

 

A junior officer changed all that when she came barging into his office one early morning. Gordon spills his coffee everywhere in shock, about to rip her head off because _fuck_ the sun was barely even up and he’d hardly slept a wink – too busy worrying about the recent drive by shootings popping up everywhere throughout the city. It’s amazing Gordon was coherent enough to notice how ill she looked to shut his trap.

 

“Forensics swept through?” he asks one of the half a dozen uniform guarding the scene behind police tape. The kid’s eyes are glazed, and it takes a long moment for him to notice who Gordon is. “Need a nap?” Gordon asks, “Maybe a glass of warm milk and blanket?”

 

“No, sir,” the kid says, blinking rapidly. Skin flushed. “Wide awake, sir.”

 

Gordon smiles wryly and turns to the aged uniform besides the kid, “Keep an eye on him, will you? Don’t need some reporter like Lane taking advantage of the weak.”

 

“Of course, Commissioner sir.”

 

“Any witnesses?”

 

“A girl was taken to the station not long ago.”

  
“Injured?”

 

“Bloody, not her’s. Says the man who killed everyone was six foot, skinny and Japanese. Left eye covered, probably injured...accent British”

 

Gordon felt an ache build behind the eyes, “He Yakuza?”

 

“No. She and her buddies thought he was, got unlucky.”

 

Gordon watches as the MEs wheel out occupied body bags. He counts five.

  
“Unlucky’s too nice a word to use.”

 

.

 

“Jesus,” he curses. Dried carpets of blood and splatters on walls make the scene resemble a Goddamn Pollock painting. Having to look away, Gordon licks his lips, itching to bum a cig. No matter how many crime scenes he’s been to in his career, it never gets easier.

 

He has to squint when the glare floodlights placed in the hallway stare back at him, listening in on the sound of leftover forensics snapping pictures.

 

“Anything on our tourist?” Gordon asks them, knowing for sure this wasn’t the work of a Gothamite. Scene lacked emotion.

  
“Dude’s a ninja,” one of their youngest pipes up excitedly. Hopping over puddles of blood to Gordon with an evidence bag he plucks from the crime scene box. “Shuriken, they’re everywhere.”

 

Taking the bag, Gordon stares at the weapon no bigger than the palm of his child’s hand - and to the scene bathed in red.

 

“We also discovered wire. Betting hypothesis is the dude laid traps with shuriken – deadly as fuck. The man didn’t have to lay a fucking finger on them. Just had to lure them inside and ” the kid makes whooshing gestures and background sound effects. There was a worrying note of admiration in the kid’s tone but Gordon was too stuck in the past to voice it.

 

“Traps,” he repeats. Mind flashing to the Joker’s with Barbra - and shivers. One psychopath in his city was enough for him.

  
He tells such to Batman.

 

Uniforms are herded out when the Dark Knight himself appears behind floodlights, matching his hard stare.

 

“MO is different from anything we’ve seen here in Gotham. You recognize anything?”

 

Batman stalks across the hotel room with his devices scanning. Gordon watches from the doorway.

  
“Too early to say.”

 

“Thought as much.”

 

“You’ve got his description.”

 

“Japanese, six foot, skinny. Got a bad left eye and talks in a British accent would you believe.” Batman turns his gaze from the room to him. Silent accusation cutting through. “He’s good at covering himself. And laying _traps_.”

 

Batman senses where he was heading with this. “I’ll find him, Commissioner.”

 

“Quickly, if you would,” Gordon almost hisses. His skin itching at the thought of a man this deadly being on the loose. “I don’t want anymore bloodshed on the streets.”

 

Batman gives a resolute nod, stalking past him, plucking the evidence bag from his grip and disappearing into thin air. Sighing, Gordon fishes out his cigarettes and lights one. He’ll quit tomorrow, he tells himself.

 

“… _Shit_.”

.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your love for my story is heart warming and gives me such motivation. Love you loads.

Kakashi inevitably finds himself relocating deeper into the heart of the city. An old, overlooking looking apartment building with a room for rent sign outside on the patchy lawn.

It's a convenient enough location for Kakashi to slip into through the window; located at the top floor and near a fire escape. The apartment is a single room, smells like moulding floorboards and bare from furniture. He's slept in worse.

With some wire that's left over, Kakashi sets two traps before bunkering down in a dim corner. Giving into exhaustion and nodding off against peeling wallpaper.

.

He gets five hours of sleep, waking up to the sounds of cars outside his window and the hustle and bustle of inner city life. It's different from anywhere he's been, and forces an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

Kakashi stays sitting for a few moments, recollecting himself and events of the past day. Setting priories straight; he needed weapons, clothes, hair dye, a cloth to cover his eye. Medical mask he's seen people wear on the streets and food.

His stomach growls.

_Food._

He hasn't eaten in almost two days. ANBU training tells him that was reckless. Without proper nutrition, he'll get sloppy. He  _has_  gotten sloppy.

Leaving a witness alive.

"Idiot," he mutters to himself. He let his emotions guide him then, too affected by the sudden absence and potential loss of Sakura.

[ _Did Pein get her? the back of his mind curls up in terror. Another one of his precious people dead, because he wasn't able to protect them_ ]

Genjutsu pulled over him, Kakashi lurches upwards to peer out the window. If someone were to look up, all they'd see is an empty room.

Dawn was over and afternoon was hiking by. Almost lunchtime judging by the amount of people on the streets cupping drinks and sandwiches.

Slinking along besides them, Kakashi spots an open fruit shop and discretely pockets an apple and banana. Eating them while surveying odd civilians.

Behind his cloth, sharingan blazing, he copies down a few more English accents. Noticing their differences in lip movements and pitches. After pickpocketing some wealthy looking individuals, Kakashi keeps the cash and wallets –knowing he could sell it on the streets for a pretty penny - and throws useless looking cards in the trash.

.

By the time dinner came, Kakashi had completely changed the look police were scouting for in the news. Black duffle coat, black track pants, army boots, and a black buttoned up suit shirt. All able to hide new weapons he managed to scout. Hidden in certain areas nobody wanted to ask.

Kakashi happily stirs his miso ramen at the feel of fresh clothes. Sharingan safely hidden behind his navy blue beanie . His hair still needed dying, but - as he peered up at the mini television set hanging the corner of the restaurant, news anchor releasing details on the " _Blue Bird_   _killer_ " - the kid had probably been in too much of a shock to notice. Lucky him.

_Lucky her_ , his ANBU training sarcastically responded.

Kakashi sniffs in offence behind his medical mask. Raising his chopsticks to slurp on some noodles, mask staying safely put.

Someone in the back hisses, " _How the fuck's he doin' that?"_

.

On one of his screens in the batcave, a news report of this morning's massacre was being released to the public along with a sketch of the culprit nicknamed by media "Blue Bird Killer".

Or lack thereof considering Gotham's new character barely revealed any skin. Maybe to cover some scars, it was a possibility Bruce wasn't going to ignore. Any information regarding he or she he was willing to suck in like a sponge.

"-  _if you see anyone suspicious, do not engage and call the police immediately_  – "

Bruce turns it off and stares at another screen bleeping at him.

"NO FINGERPRINTS FOUND"

Rolling his chair over to the counter to pick up a shuriken he had taken, Bruce fiddles with it.

Uniquely cut. Extremely professional.

Just like those traps he'd examined when revisiting the crime scene.

In the back of his mind, the possibility of something he really didn't want to voice started nagging at him.

"No luck, Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice echoes from the stairway. Bruce swivels in his chair to see the older man carrying over a tray of chicken soup.

"The person killed ten people in two days," he redirects.

"Oh? Not just the eight?" Alfred set the tray down on his counter while examining evidence spread out on various screens.

"Two decomposing corpses were found wrapped in bed sheets in his bathroom. Safe to say I'm considering his mentality."

Alfred cocks his head. "Fingerprints?"

Bruce fingers the edge of the shuriken. Staring at a spot in the cave. "Either he wore gloves, which the witness doesn't recall seeing or feeling. Or cut them off, many times."

This earns him a raised eyebrow, "Peculiar assumption to come to, Master Bruce. May I ask why?"

"Given the weapons choice, trap laying and stylised method of killing. I'm in the early stages of thinking it's the League."

Alfred's eyes turn cold in remembrance of their unfriendly acquaintance. "Early stages, you say?"

Bruce gives him a sombre look, "Early stages."

"Lets hope it stays that way," his butler sniffs. Nose curling upwards as though the League were an inferior chef. "Please eat your dinner, Master Bruce. Young Master Damien wishes to join you in a quick spar before going out for your nightly walk-abouts."

"You won't say anything to him, will you Alfred?"

Alfred labels an arched eyebrow.

"Just checking."

"Please, Master Bruce. If I can keep your secret of playing dress up every night I can keep this little horror hidden. No need to rile Young Master Damien up for a short scare."

Bruce watches him go, allowing a small smile before shrinking it and tossing the shuriken in the air.

Hopefully new information about this guy pops up. Though if he was with League, then why would they be alone?

_….A rogue?_

Unheard of, but not impossible when taking into account of how much a delusional psychopath Ra's is. Maybe the person was able to wake up from the brainwashing monarchisms of that man. Maybe the person was trying to seek refuge, knowing his reputation of going against Ra's.

_Well_ , Bruce thinks humourlessly,  _killing a bunch of people wasn't a good first impression. That's for sure. Knowing Damien, handshakes probably aren't a thing among League members. The mere mention of a handshake could imply ripping off a limb._

He quickly types his first analysis of the person into a document, then opens a new one.

If not League, then somebody well-trained.

_Somebody -_

Getting a whiff of chicken soup, Bruce hears an echo of Alfred's potential nagging reluctantly puts hold on further investigations.

.

Kakashi spends the next day inside the library researching everything and anything there is to do about this world. What he unearths is disconcerting.

Shinobi is nothing but a myth, a fictitious legend filled with an array of inaccuracies. Samurai were at least there, but practically wiped out by their own country. Chakra was a simplistic concept. Buddhism is among one of the dozens of religions – some condoning murder, or inciting murder. Or mistranslated and causes murder by a pure misunderstanding.

Contract killers, he comes to discover pretty quickly, is very much frowned upon.

In this world, Kakashi was no better than Pein.

Not a pleasant thought.

.

The more he read, the more Kakashi couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at.

Locking down the suffocating pressure of isolation suddenly seeping out of everything; the bricks in walls, paper of books and people around him, looking, speaking,  _reeking_  wrong.

_Snap out of it,_ ANBU training hisses.  _Breathe. Control._

He does.

Kakashi shrugs off his depression. Cold resurgence of control shocking him into focus.

.

Computers, Kakashi recognizes after growing bored of old publications, are extremely useful. Forty minutes in on reading a manual, he's given a growth of information on the city. Better than his personal observations.

Gotham, the city, was protected by a bunch of costumed "heroes". Batman, once an urban legend, apparently  _really_  frowned upon killing. Every hero did. Robin. Robin 2.0. Robin 3.0…. _Robin 4.0_ …

"Shit, they just keep coming," Kakashi mutters with the shake of his head while scrolling through a fan page dedicated to the kids - and isn't that ironic. The caped crusader who's thoroughly against law breaking is voluntarily taking part in manufacturing 'child soldiers'.

There were more heroes, Kakashi tuts as he clicks on web links to other fan pages. Superman in Metropolis, Flash and Kid Flash in Central City, Green Arrow in Star City, Red Arrow, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, Nightwing, Superboy, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter…the list goes on. His primary goal now was to stay well under their radar.

Asking for help from these people - though clearly knowledgeable on the matter of other universes - was undoubtedly out of the question. They'd rather throw him in Arkham Asylum than set him free in his universe. Despite his world's endorsement of contract killings.

And suddenly, the thought of them invading his world based on their black and white view of morality – turning his home to piles of dust on a quest of peace like  _Pein_  – it set something loose inside of him. Like a plucked violin string.

_Like shit we'll allow them near our precious people,_  Obito hisses besides him. Hand gripping his shoulder. His friend's ghost glared at the screen of their profile pictures.

ANBU training blares,  _Threat_.

Kakashi agrees.

.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your love for this story...man. I did not see that coming. Your support is so loved!

 

.

By late evening next week, Kakashi’s lost.

He’s learnt all there is to know about this world. Memorized every language he could get his hands on and thought about half a dozen ways to kill the supposed ‘Superheroes’ if they were to ever so much as  _peek_  at his world – In all, he’s successfully assimilated. 

Mission complete.

Now all that’s left to do is find a way home.

That new mission leads him to the rooftop of his apartment building’s edge.

Eyeing the fifty-meter drop with the kind of detachment a person gets when looking at a random spot on the wall.

Kakashi had no real time to think about what brought him into this world or how. ANBU training had gripped him by the back of the neck and shoved into a forced bow shouting “ _ATTENTION_ ”

All unnecessary effort put into assimilating seems so silly now.

He died.

He saw his father.

He was at peace.

And then he woke up.

To Pein’s attack echoing like a bruise and splashed in warm blood.

There was no foreign chakra. No seals or Shinigami, just a sudden awareness of being.

The conclusion was ridiculously simple.

Dying again was the only option.

 _You sure about this?_  Obito asks at his side.

His ghost was older now, about the same age as him and  _whole_. Kakashi allows himself to breaking free from the fifty-meter trance to stare at the sight he’s only dreamt of. Now hallucinated.

The grief of ‘maybe’ is embraced. Easier to commit to the drop.

“ _There’s no evidence to go off on_.”

ANBU scraped off his memory of death and arrival so many times it gave Kakashi a headache.

 _Superheroes have visited other dimensions_. Obito points out, looking as though the words bit through like ration bars.

Kakashi eye smiles. “ _Dead and still giving stupid advice_.”

His friend rolls his eyes, put out and not rising to the bait he used to do in kid form.

_I meant, **Bakashi** , they’d have information on how they did it stored somewhere, yeah?_

_Stealing intelligence from those baby-faced fools will be a piece of piss_ , ANBU says, admiring Obito’s thinking.

_Thank you!_

Obito’s smiling at him.

Dead eyes and lively grin colliding against each other in a way that makes Kakashi’s heart ache again.

“ _Obito,_ ” he grins back helplessly, gaze falling over the edge. One step and he could be home. “ _What the fuck am I supposed to do?_ ”

The hand on his shoulder was warm.

“ _Take a breath_.”

The voice wasn’t Obito’s.

“ _And step back, man._ ”

Kakashi feels a chill go down his spine. It’s been a while since somebody was able to sneak up on him.

In all fairness it wasn’t a testimony to the man’s skill, more of a terrible beating to Kakashi’s lack of awareness in the face of death.

A quick assessment of the situation and peek of viscous red has Kakashi laughably realising that the Red Hood was telling him to not kill himself. Mentally listed as a potential ally given his past animosity against Batman and penchant for murdering criminals.

It a terrible thing, reflexes.

They move quicker than thoughts.

The moment Kakashi labels him as non-threatening, he’s already smashed the helmet in and rendered Hood unconscious.

Takes a hot moment for that to kick in.

.

Leaving a wanted felon and potential ally prone on the top of a relatively small apartment building's roof  wouldn’t have been the worst thing Kakashi’s done in his sad life.

But, given his literal life and death situation, Kakashi makes an effort to not do that. No matter how amusing his reaction would be.

.

After removing both helmet and mask to treat the definite gash Kakashi had caused to Hood’s right temple, he’s mildly surprised to see how young the man is.

About a year or two younger than himself.

Yet he couldn’t dodge a damn punch.

 _No chakra_ , he reminds himself.  _Not a shinobi_.

_Not one of mine._

Couple of stitches and band-aid later, Kakashi cleans him of his weapons and sits opposite out of striking range.

Waiting.

.

Jason expects to wake up to being dangled above a pot of boiling chemicals, tied to a torture chair, trussed up in the back of a van of wackos or whatever the hell gets fuckers off these days – not  _this_.

Not stitched up and left demurely to his lonesome like some damsel.

He spends a minute or ten pretending to sleep, listening for a hint of placement and geometry –  _hello_  hustle and bustle of late night Gothamites – to find. Well. He really was alone.

Then he opens his eyes and immediately corrects himself.

The blackened figure he got decked by was sitting a few feet away. Posture relaxed in a way Jason envies and single grey eye staring at him like he wanted to gobble him all up.

Not in the fun way.

Okay then.

Obviously, the guy was trying to tell him he wasn’t here to hurt him. Both the lack of drugs in his system, and freedom of mobility pointed at that.

But he also took all his weapons and was likely armed himself, so Jason wasn’t exactly feeling generous with the trust thing.

Dick’s told him he should work on that.

“ _Alright dickface,_ ” he starts eloquently in Japanese. Not one to ignore the elephant in the room.“ _What do you want?_ ”

“Nothing,” the suicidal ass has the nerve to say with open palms. Jason rears into a sitting position, feely punchy.

“Evil British meta human,” Jason says. Completely unenthused. “Do they make you in a factory, clone you or what?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” the man eye smiles creepily at him. Eliminating one possibility in how he could have possibly dented bulletproof metal. “You’re free to go, by the way. Unless you want to have a sleepover?”

For some insane reason, Jason gets the feeling the man wasn’t lying.

“Pillow fights aren’t really my thing. Rain check, maybe?”

“Shame,” the man hangs his head. As though he were genuinely sad. Jason bites down the urge to attack while he’s not looking. The weight of his stitch and memory of suddenly blacking out itches. “I even bought a pillow.”

What a freakin’ weirdo.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he smiles, eyeing exits.

“You can go.” A hand gestures encouragingly.

Jason gets up, readying for an attack. A blankened figure to pop out of somewhere or a trap to appear.

He waits.

Nothing happens.

He opens the window, makes to the fire escape.

Nothing.

“Who are you?”

“Hopefully a friend.”

“Can I get my weapons back then, friend?”

“Hmm. It’s a little early in our relationship to give each other things, don’t you think?” From where Jason was crouched, the man looked like a single shadow. But the head tilt was obvious.

As was the flirtatious tone.

He scowls. “My helmet. Where is it?”

“Somewhere.”

The guy's personality was a horrid concoction of both Flash and Batman’s. 

“When we see each other again, I’m gonna shoot you.” He promises with feeling. Find out if the ass was bulletproof then. If not, maybe a rocket launcher.

The man doesn’t so much as miss a beat. “Already planning a second date? My my, aren't you moving fast.”

He flicks him the finger and leaps down the flight of metal stairs. Repressed fury  _burning_  like a wildfire in his veins. Shaken bottle of coke.

His hands begin to tremble.

“God  _dammnit_ ,” he hisses. 

He’s never doing a good deed again. Never fucking again.

His helmet was gone and he felt so damn naked -  _face_  was seen by a complete stranger. Who managed overpowered him in a split second. Not even Dick could do that.

Yet that Grim-reapery motherfucker could.

Whoever the hell he was, Jason was gonna put a bullet in him one way or another. He wasn’t about to let this slide like some diminutive wimp.

And just as he was about a pluck away from a full blown lazerus induced haze, Jason’s mind decided to show up.

“I was hit up by the fuckin’  _Blue Bird_  killer?!”

.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the most difficult. I'm not very good with dialogue, still learning, so I hope you all enjoy this :D
> 
> Helpful criticism and thoughts are always welcome.

 

.

Hood's weaponry was a lot sleeker and subtler in their capacity for damage than what the weapons broker had in her car boot. High end, Kakashi gathers. Turning over and examining slim handguns, tactile knives, grenades, detonators, and a whole array of devices he has fun learning about. They beep excitedly when he turns them on. Lighting his face in a bright blue.

From his time spent in the library, Kakashi came across a section about bugging and its uses in modern-day technology. Viruses. Coding. Bots - the whole quota.

Kakashi discovers an overkill amount of tracking and self-destructive coding both in and on Hood's devices.

"And you call me paranoid," he mutters to Obito. Ghost lingering in the haze of street lamps coming from the open window. Light echoes through his transparent hallucination like clumps of dust suspended in mid-air.

(Minato-sensei would be turning over in his grave right now at his deteriorating mental health.)

.

It was loud and vibrant inside Gotham's art gallery. A temporary exhibition was being held, themed upon their localized masked heroes. The tribute was organized and presented by City Mayor. Both foreign and Gotham artists eagerly participated.

Their art works were hung like religious paintings.

Donated clippings of old newspaper articles back in Batman's hayday framed delicately.

Glass encased; rusted, broken batarangs and pieces of Batman's old cape as though they were priceless artefacts.

Videos, pictures – anything and everything there was on Batman and his recycled sidekicks were exhibited and to be auctioned off later this month. Money collected was said to go towards urban charities.

Media went wild off that good deed by the privileged.

.

Tonight was it's opening, and therefore welcomed only the most prestigious of guests.

Kakashi walked in through the front door.

Adorned in expensive-looking striped grey pants and blazer, silky blue dress shirt and maroon turtleneck cupped to his nose - Kakashi strutted past security like he held a gun to their faces. Nobody questioned him. Easily mixing in with celebrity VIPs, Senates and stockowners. Airing out the confidence of a man who knew he belonged. For once, pleasantly enough, his silver hair wasn't completely out of place amongst the bizarre fashion statements being paraded about.

It was all so easy, Kakashi found himself lingering in the back of the gothic art exhibition. Momentarily thrown.

The combined familial presence of Hood and ANBU ghosting his awareness slaps Kakashi upside the head.

"Evening, my dear. Here for the art or me?" he asks the man in a sweetly accented tone.

Black tinted shades glint softly under candlelight from the chandelier above. For all his menacing demeanour, Hood blended in like undercover security detail. Tailored black suit fitting him in a way that didn't look to hinder movement, and enabled him to stash weapons. Big and small.

Kakashi wants to ask who his tailor is – and how he found the time to go see them.

Since his little chat with Hood, the man had developed a peculiar stalking tendency. Understandable and measured, Kakashi didn't view Hood as a threat (much to his displeasure, he's sure) so no harm done. He's perfectly capable to ditch him whenever so desired.

(Again, it was all so simple ANBU's begun to make less and less of an appearance.)

The abrupt circle of metal touching his hipbone tells Kakashi exactly what Hood was here for.

"A bit much, don't you think?" he says casually, treating the gun like a banana and content to purposefully dragging Hood into the loneliest part of the room.

The nibbles table.

The man does try to valiantly halt his descent. Grip on bicep made of steel and shoes partially squeaking in a struggled standstill.

"Bringing a gun to a wine party. Very humdrum, my dear. Very humdrum."

He doesn't exactly know what 'humdrum' meant, but the man he stole it off used the word a lot.

Kakashi purposely stops by an elderly woman excitedly conversing with her husband about the pecan tarts. Ignorantly bliss.

He turns to face Hood. Accusation loud. The man doesn't let his thoughts bleed out, but the gun does vanish.

Hand stays put.

"When we're alone, we're gonna talk," Hood warns. "I know who you are. Worked that one out real quick and simple."

" _Oho?_ " Kakashi is genuinely curious at the lack of red and blue parked outside his front lawn.

But it does explain the past week spent dodging bullets to the ass and groin.

"Yeah," Hood doesn't look at all ashamed of those fond memories. "Well. Considering you insistent desire to keep on livin', I've come to realise I'm not exactly in the position to judge another's work ethic." He flashes a sardonic smile. "I am however fucking entitled to know whether that person's targeting me. Good intentions or not, we'll see." he cocks his head in the vague direction of the exit. "You know, there's this quaint little alleyway a couple blocks down where we can hash this out. What do'ya say, pal?"

"Hmm, why not talk here?" Kakashi asks of him, looping an arm around Hood's and handing him a plastic plate. Hood drops it on principle, lips curling back in a barely repressed scowl. Somebody wasn't enjoying their evening out.

"I'm not  _here_  to snack on freakin' finger foods. Why're you even here anyways? What, a fan of Batman or somethin'?"

By the tone of voice, Kakashi just  _knew_  he had found the right ally.

Above them the high, cathedral-like ceilings echoes a voice of a lady. Counting down the time to enter names into the raffle to win an exclusive Batarang replica.

 _Rich people_ , Obito snorts somewhere behind him.

"Tourist curiosity?" Kakashi ventures.

"Bull." Hood calls out. Closing in on him and an assortment of baguettes Kakashi suddenly finds interesting. "You're here for something, what is it?"

"Hmm," he redirects them down the food table. Hood lets him, staring intently.

Passers-by don't take the odd couple any notice, far too interested in making good impressions on one another. This exhibition wasn't simply about honouring Batman; it was a blanket to cover renewed opportunities in initiating superiority of wealth, mending and framing connections, bribery, blackmail, affairs. All sorts of sickening conduct that the world of the rich get up to in their past time.

Somewhere in the back of the gallery, Kakashi could make out the boisterous laughter of Gotham's Mayor and rushed laughter of his kissing crowd.

"Just confirming a theory of mine."

"Will this theory take long?"

"Oho, running on a tight schedule are we?" He asks. Leaning down to rest his head on Hood's shoulder. Absently noting the bulletproof lining in his clothes. "Honey," he whispers in horror, "are you two-timing me?"

" _Get off,"_  Hood hisses as though a jug of boiling water had been spilt on him. Kakashi allows himself to be shrugged off. Laughing at the wet cat look he's directed. "Stop that."

He raises his hands, eye sparkling. "No, seriously. Should I be jealous."

Hood glares at him. Hand twitching, presumably for the gun he's so fond of shooting him with. Old habits die hard.

" _No_ ," the man practically growls. Looking suddenly flighty. "I don't like Batman. This place is damned stifling."

"You didn't have to come," Kakashi links both hands behind his back. Walking towards an arched window to look out at Gotham's city scape. They were on the second floor, and Kakashi could make out the paparazzi below snapping shots of guests still arriving. "I'm more than accepting of your stalking."

"Ain't that the fuckin' truth," Hood grunts. Coming up opposite him, hands pocketed and expression tight. "You're hell of a suspicious bastard. I've been shooting you up all week,  _literally_ , and you still want my friendship. Either you're suicidal or you want my cooperation with something. I'm putting my money on the latter."

" _Hmm_."

He scoffs at Kakashi's expectant eye smile. "I came here because it was the only way to get you in one damned spot. You're a squirrely piece of shit when you want to be and when I'm carrying ammunition… I don't know if you've noticed by now but I get twitchy fingers around serial killer assholes. I shoot, you fuck off like your ass is on fire."

"Because it almost  _is_."

Hood grins and quickly hides it behind a scowl. "Alright, your turn. What d'you want from me? We can get to why you're here later."

Kakashi phrases it simply, "Information."

"Uh huh," Hood nods, making a 'going on' gesture. "As in…specifically…."

"How to extract data from the Justice League's files. You're more experienced with them, unlike myself."

Both eyebrows come up from behind the shades. "You're shitting me.  _Hacking_? That's what you've come to me for,  _geek crap?_ "

"And then some. If we ever come up against the supes, I'm gonna need your help." Kakashi wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could go up against an entire squadron of super powered individuals. Some of which were Aliens.

Backup would be nice, even if Hood were to be used as a decoy.

"Yeah…" Hood's tone suggests Kakashi should get his head checked at. It's a tone he's awfully familiar with. "I'm gonna give you a hard no right there, pal. You're good. I can acknowledge that. But Superman is better. Batman, is better. They're all  _better_. The hacking crap, even if I  _were_  to help we'd probably only be able to get through the first firewall layer. After that all we'd get is soft furry porn." At Kakashi's squint, Hood shrugs. "The chick who helped design League's system is God-like talented and a weirdo." He crosses his arms, tone aiming for indifferent and Kakashi notices something that wasn't there before.

Sentiment.

And  _oh_.

He see's a part of Hood the man has desperately tried to hide from view.

An ex-hero.

 _Shit_ ANBU rears its ugly head.

Kakashi adapts. "I'm not looking for a fight. I simply want information. Once I get it, I'll be gone." Hopefully.

"Getting mixed signals here,  _Blue_." Hood uses the nickname Kakashi's earned from the media. Mirthless grin in place. "Cause your body count speaks of a past drenched in blood. Give me a reason I should trust you on this."

"Turning over a new leaf? Saw a psychic and she read my future?" Seeing they didn't share the same humour, Kakashi half-shrugs. "It's the truth. If I can avoid a fight I will."

Hood mulls over this for a few seconds. Turning to stare out at Gotham's city lights.

"Why should I?"

"To piss Batman off."

A startled bark of laughter bursts from Hood. Beckoning a partnership nobody saw coming.

Or wanted.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 1am...hopefully this chapter is cohesive.
> 
> Btw this budding friendship is built upon assholery which includes Kakashi bullshitingly flirting with Jason because he knows it'll irritate the hell out of him. This ain't a gay romcom dudes, I suck at those.
> 
> Murder tho... :D

.

Disorder begins with the lady through the speakers getting abruptly cut off. Her choked scream causes a sudden stillness to appear amongst the crowd.

Chatter breaks, eyes fling upwards in silent concern.

Not for the lady, for themselves.

Laughter so hideous and familiar there's a momentary pause of stupid fear. Silence, then a shout and everyone is flinging themselves towards the exits in heart-pounding horror.

Glasses fall into shattered diamonds. Waiters briskly shoved aside. Kakashi hears a symphony of gong-like bangs of trays dropping on marble.

The wealthy run so fast it looks almost practised – or rather, a bad habit.

"Shit," Hood curses. Abandoning him without thought and shooting off in the direction of the control room.

In the distance, Kakashi eyes the reason he came here;

Disappearing with the ease of a shadow right behind Hood.

Kakashi follows. Slipping off and draping his blazer over the head of a stupefied waiter he passes while rolling up the silken blue sleeves of his dress shirt.

He really did need Hood's tailor. These clothes weren't exactly stitched for combat and stealth.

He enters through the 'staff only' stairwell. A set of circular concrete staircases snaking both up and down the walls. Built in tacky LED's were flickering, almost as if they had been unexpectedly shut on and off again.

Kakashi leans over the metal railing. Glancing up.

One level above, a door opens.

Stepping onto the railing, Kakashi leaps up the flight, grabs the barrier and slings himself through the door before it shuts.

The hallway he enters is dark. Kakashi was beginning to understand how Bruce Wayne kept his secret.

Sharingan on, he spots the man rushing down the hallway and ducking into the control room. He doesn't advance; instead he heads down the opposite direction.

To the batarang replica.

 _What a cheapskate_ , Obito guffaws the same time his shadow clone bursts and second-hand memories appear.

.

The woman was nocked out, not dead and certainly not dosed up on Joker's laughing gas. Jason presses the  _stop_  button on the recording device he recognises as his own along with the Gallery's microphone. Laughing ceases and he quickly pockets the phone before Bruce comes storming in. One glance at the woman asleep at her desk, Bruce aims Jason an expectant look.

"Wasn't Joker," but he has a pretty solid fucking idea who the culprit actually is. The question of what he got out of this unnerves him.

"Any idea who?" Bruce asks, closing the door behind him and glancing around the room suspiciously before checking the woman himself.

Jason steps aside, scoffing. "Nah. Whoever it was is probably blocks away." Hopefully.

Seeing she's still healthy, Bruce turns his cool gaze onto him.

Ah, there it was. The distrust.

Jason's lips seal tighter into a scowl.

"Why are you here?" The question sounds ruder than it could have been. "Who was your friend?"

"What?" Jason crosses his arms defiantly, "Can't a couple guys enjoy modern art?"

"If they're invited," Bruce points out. "And the subject of the exhibition isn't one you shoot at on a regular basis."

"I thought you'd be pleased, I'm socializing."

"Who is he?"

"I'm not gonna play this game with you  _Bruce_ ," he says, already moving for the exit. Bruce moves with him. "Where I go along with this fake concern only to end up locked in Arkham."

Bruce studiously ignores the painful reminder. "He looks suspicious."

 _Hit that one on the fuckin' nail_.

"Well he isn't," Jason shrugs, keeping his face very still. "He's a damned fan of yours and wanted to see the exhibit early. So I helped."

He may have layed it on a bit too thick because stone-wall-Bruce arches an eyebrow.

"You helped. Voluntarily. To see something about me?"

"This wasn't about  _you_ ," Jason hisses on principle. Not even having to bullshit the ludicrous amount of contempt he had for that statement. "This was about  _him_  and making him happy.  _Alright_?"

Jason marches out the door, pleasantly surprised when Bruce fails to toe along.

.

Getting out of the gallery is depressingly simple. The place had shit-for-brains security systems that blink out whenever he comes into view - thank you Barbra and your (borrowed) tech – and ape security guards who don't even notice Jason walking past them when they finally get around to checking in on passed out girl.

Landing on a nearby rooftop, Jason hears the crunch of gravel and nearly shoots Blue in-between the eyes.

The man gives him that pervy-lookin' eye smile of his. Unfazed when Jason declines to lower his weapon.

"Our understanding's lookin' a little pale here, Blue," Jason says, tense edge to his voice. "You might wanna start explaining before I get twitchy again."

"Ooh," Blue scratches the back of his head, almost absent-mindedly. "Sorry. Did I trigger you?"

The implication of that statement sends an unpleasant chill rushing across his nervous system.

Jason laughs through it.

Blue cocks his head, "Oho? Still not impressed, Jason To – "

Jason covers the distance between them in a single stride, fist locked onto the silk collar and bringing him close.

His gun bruises Blue's forehead.

" _How?_ " he hisses. No longer contemplating murder as a second option.

Blue's half-lidded eye stares at him in fucking -

Amusement

Jason is seconds away from blowing his brains out.

_Take him seriously goddamit!_

"My theory was conclusive. From then it was a simple matter of elimination and guess work." Blue lolls his head back and forth, toying with Jason's striding self-control. "Like I said. I don't want violence."

"You're making it pretty fuckin' hard on me here, cyclopse."

For the first time, Jason felt threatened by someone.

Instinct told him to eliminate the threat.

But something about Blue's words made him hold back.

"Aah, and I am sorry about that," he apologises. It almost sounds genuine. "But I think transparency between us will strengthen our relationship."

Jason scoffs in disgust at the term. "You've got a serious emotional problem man, if you think what we have is a relationship."

"You're not the first to say that," Blue admits. "I won't tell anyone about your identity. I never meant to discover it, honest!" he crosses his heart, looking as though  _Jason_  were the one who was doing the threatening here. Fuck. He wished. "It came hand-in-hand with Batman's,  _Bruc-"_

Jason's palm smacks Blue's covered mouth. Eyes blown in genuine disbelief. He couldn't help it.

"You followed him," he whispers in terrible understanding. "You knew he'd go check on the girl because he thought  _he_  was there. Joker. That's why you were here tonight. Not for the exhibition but for..." Jason's gun pathetically starts to tremble, emotions and thoughts attacking one another. Shouting at one another.

The Pit's rage threatens to boil over.

The man was a threat. A blaring red threat and he was at Jason's mercy.

 _Allowing_  him to be.

Allowing him to either kill him, or listen.

Jason fucking hates this.

 _Do it_ , Pit urges.

"Convince me. One last time, convince me."

"Hood," Blue starts, soft. "I've already told you why I'm here. I want information. What I do with that information isn't going to hurt the people you love. Promise."

"I don't love them," Jason barks a cruel laugh. "And why should I believe a word you say? What's to say you don't run off and blurt everything you discovered here to Riddler, Joker, Penguin – whose to say, huh?"

Blue half-shrugs. "Because we're partners?"

"No we ain't!" Jason shouts at him. Pit inside him is growling at this point and he's shoving the gun so hard into Blue's face he's waiting to see blood.

"Then kill me. It's easier."

It really is.

Jason thought hard then.

Dammit his finger was getting stiff. "You serious?" He hisses. "You really just want information?"

"Finally believe me, do you?"

"No," Jason snarls, pauses. "But yes." At last, Jason lowers his gun. Lips curling into a smirk and grimace at the angry red circle left on Blue's forehead. "I'm not apologising. You're so fucking suspicious you make me angry."

Blue snorts, rubbing the mark Jason left and sighing. "Well that was particularly dramatic."

"Don't make me regret this, asshole."

.

Jason leads Kakashi back to his one of his many safe houses. He was unhappy to discover it was located very close to the Blue Bird Inn.

"Bring back pleasant memories?" Jason had badly joked when they had entered the area.

"Hmm. Should they?"

.

The safe house, though seriously lacking in cleanliness and appearance stashed an impressive amount of ammunition and self-defence systems.

Kakashi resolves himself to not touch things.

"Hoo, not a fan of spring cleaning, are you?" he asks, spreading himself comfortably on the aged brown couch. It was situated in the middle of the living room opposite the tiny open kitchen. He would have coughed had his face been uncovered.

Jason pauses half into the room, looked as though he was seriously re-considering his life choices.

"Haven't been here in a while," the kid says. Tense as he undresses himself from his black blazer. Draping it on the kitchen counter, loosening his tie and popping the collar he mutters a stressed, "Shit."

"Hmm, you know what?"

"What?" Jason rubs in-between his eyes, voice rising. "Fucking what?"

"I'm hungry," Kakashi hums, smirking at the silence.

 _You're terrible_ , Obito whispers into his ear.

Jason stands there, expression unreadable before shutting his eyes in a drawn out sigh. He turns, grabbing the blazer on the way to the door. Kakashi hops off the couch, fists in pockets and posture lethargic.

"Just because I'm royally fucked doesn't mean we can't eat." Odd reasoning, but Kakashi wasn't one to judge. "I know this great pizza place nearby."

" _What's_   _pizza_?" Kakashi asks in Japanese.

For the first time, Jason is disgusted by something normal.

.

The place Jason takes him to is small with fogged up windows and cramped spacing. They sit in a booth made up of cheap red leather that squeaks from the smallest of movement. They're lucky, Jason tells him, this place is normally full by this time at night. Kakashi believes him. As Jason's ordering a large pepperoni pizza for himself and vegetable for Kakashi, thugs starts to pile in.

From the back of the restaurant, Kakashi has clear view of the men and women lounging dangerously in their own booths. Hardware on full display from pulled up shirts and outlines on clothing.

The Italian mafia.

Currently at war with the Yakuza.

He looks Japanese. 

Kakashi cuts Jason a measured look.

Jason sips his water, malicious glee palpable. "What?"

How childish.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts and helpful criticism are always helpful (:  
> I love hearing from you beautiful people. Your support...gosh it literally makes me feel 1000x better.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams be rollin', they hatin'...
> 
> Enjoy my dedicated procrastination.

 

.

"First of all," Jason takes a large bite of his pizza, chewing through his words. "I'm not some cheap whore working on Seventh Street. My services aren't frivolous, they fuckin' classy." Eyebrows lifted, Kakashi listens as the man names his price. "By the hour." Jason adds in afterthought.

"Not just any regular whore," Kakashi smiles faintly, "an expensive whore."

"You do realise I still have my gun on me?" it was less of a question and more of a strongly implied threat.

"Sorry," he opens his palms, "please," making a winding motion with his hand. "Do continue with the extortion of my money."

Which Jason is under the hilarious impression he has a lot of.

"It's not extortion if you're the one who sought me out," Jason raises two digits. "Secondly, you tell me  _everything_  you're planning on doing. Even if it's a grocery run for some tater tots, you let me know." Leaning in he hisses, finger drumming the table "This is the Justice League you're messing with so you better not bum around information that could land me in Arkham again."

Satisfied with Kakashi's 'why not' shrug of agreement, Jason grunts. "Thirdly, return what you stole."

For a moment, Kakashi thinks he's getting called out on the batarang replica before recalling that certain incident a week or so ago.

"Ooh, that."

"You better not have fiddled with my shit, man."

"I did no such thing," Kakashi lies with the delight of an addict. "I'll return them tomorrow if you want."

Not entirely believing, Jason grumbles into his next bite with the promise of. "We'll see."

.

The Mafia held no prejudice against murder.

Especially when it came to suspected Yakuza members.

Kakashi notices it the moment Jason leaves to pay the bill a table over near the kitchen. A group of lounging armed men and women Kakashi pegged upon entering as hired mercenaries - turns instinctively at sensing Jason's movement like a fly buzzing past.

Almost immediately catching sight of Kakashi, recognition slides over their faces. Whatever conversation they had going cuts off in a quick muttering.

Very quickly hands disappear under jackets.

Kakashi's gaze drops to the perspiring glass of his cold water, reflecting on whether they thought he was simply a 'Japanese' Yakuza with suicidal intentions in Mafia territory. Or, they were ordered to shoot whoever looked 'Japanese' for paranoias' sake.

Either way their hands certainly weren't reaching for 'Icha Icha Paradise'.

Jason returns with a mild look of irritation. He leans down on the table and asks in a low tone, "Am I dreaming or do I see two very pretty ladies in tight suits behind me wanting to kill you?"

Spotting an ember of excitement Kakashi cocks his head. "Exactly which part are you glad about?"

Jason lifts an eyebrow as though saying 'both'.

"Saa, for what's about to happen," Kakashi stands and as one they make their way outside. It seemed to have rained slightly during the half hour. Releasing pungent smells of old excrement and motor oil that had sunk into the ground. Air uncomfortably moist,  Kakashi wrinkles his nose in disgust at the glaring differences between Gotham and Konohagakure. "I'm not paying you back for buying me dinner."

Jason's gaze slides over to him at the weird statement. "Uh huh. Fair 'nough."

A handful of meters behind them the Pizza shop's doorbell dings.

Kakashi wiggles his eyebrows, "Will you lead or shall I?"

"Have at it."

Sidewalk lit sparingly by sickly yellow streetlights and glows coming from nearby restaurants, Kakashi goes to pick up the pace a bit when he hears the click of a safety coming off.

ANBU  _tuts._

Ideally, he would have preferred for this to happen somewhere more secluded.

Now he had to account for witnesses.

"They  _wouldn't_ ," Jason groans in exasperation.

Kakashi glances over his shoulder to see five raised handguns. " _Aah_ , it's very rude to point."

They really didn't seem to care.

There's an ear-splitting crack of gunfire, explosions of light and despite calling himself 'classy' Jason bowls himself through the Pizza Restaurant's window shouting curses. Kakashi was already in the air and slamming his foot into a mercenary's face.

During his time as a Shinobi, Kakashi has copied over a thousand techniques that could destroy an army of soldiers.

None of them even come close to the power of Tsunade's chakra control.

Not that he would ever admit it in polite company, because if he did he would certainly die a horrible death, but Kakashi's been in Tsunade's company with Jiraiya a number of times. Too many to have not quietly copied her technique.

Right now, polite company is in another dimension. And he's always been curious to test it out.

The man's face explodes beneath his foot. Decorating the ground with monstrous chunks of bone and brain matter.

Incongruously, the firing stops.

The mercenaries stare at Kakashi's feet. Stupefied.

Dress shoe standing in the place where their fallen comrade's head should have been.

The body was there. Splayed eagle.

Above the neck is where things get dizzying. One of them stumbles back to throw up bits of cheese pizza.

The others get angry.

" _You_ -" Kakashi snatches the gun from the large man and turns it on him in one shot. Three more rounds are emptied and the street is drowned in the echoes and wet thumps that follow. He can hear people inside the restaurant whimpering under their seats, owner no doubt in the back frantically calling up the Mafia Boss instead of the police. Reporting that the Yakuza has made another move on territory.

Kakashi comes to realise that he really needs to fix this misunderstanding.

His one ally almost died.

Eyeing the shattered window, Kakashi catches bits of blood on the table top Jason likely rolled off for cover.

"Still alive?" He calls.

The doorbell dings and Kakashi turns round to watch Jason storm over. Shaking out shards of glass that had dug into his bulletproof blazer. "Next time we're orderin' Chinese takeout. Christ, this was my favourite pizza place," the man pauses to shout at the petrified waitress through the windows, "you assholes! I was a regular tipper!"

Kakashi asks what Chinese food is while lifting his foot and kicking off whatever that had managed stick itself to the sole of his shoe like wet toilet paper.

Jason swallows, staring at him in disgust. "You're really fucking unique. We should ditch before – "

An emptying of a loaded gun heralds further chaos inside the restaurant. They both stare in bemusement as two waiters that were previously cowering now firing round after round shouting in Japanese to the kitchen area.

They looked to be in the middle of an undercover takeover, loudly demanding the owner to get his fat Italian ass out of his safe room.

Around the street corner comes rallying two white vehicles that screech to a halt near them. Stepping out with semi-automatics, eight tall impeccably dressed men and women give them both a once over. Raising eyebrows at Kakashi's blood-flecked clothes, then the dead mercenaries.

" _Having a good evening_?" one greets Kakashi while the others march inside. Weapons poised. Enough indication that they weren't the type to keep witnesses alive.

Kakashi eye-smiles at his fortune. " _Can't complain._ "

That seems to be enough to satisfy him before strolling inside with a nod.

"Ha...I think we just helped the Yakuza expand territory," Kakashi says as he and Jason retreat to the rooftops.

"Well that's just goddamn peachy," Granted nobody inside the restaurant was a law-abiding citizen, but Jason still looked like he was fighting the urge to take his own gun out and put on his Hood persona. "Now I have to go back there tomorrow to make sure they haven't killed any minors by mistake."

Kakashi makes a sympathetic wincing sound Jason glares at.

This guy really was hot tempered

.

No witnesses.

Three different MOs.

And a guy that looked to have had his head punched off from Superman.

Commissioner Gordon had his work cut out for him this week.

.

The last time Kakashi got woken up by someone knocking at the door was when Naruto came to give him Mr Ukki as a birthday present.

There's a good very reason why Naruto doesn't visit much.

Jason catches the knife thrown at the door seconds before it hits. Shooting him a mildly irritated grimace before pointing the blade's tip over to the bathroom. Mouthing 'hide'.

Kakashi slides dramatically from the couch, locking the bathroom door just as Jason open his.

.

"What?"

"I brought sustenance," Dick raises his eco friendly shopping bag in show. Jason sighs at the hopeful smile and pushes the door open all way. Allowing Dick inside the apartment and mindful to not cast a glance at the bathroom. "You've moved again," Dick says. Placing the bag down on the kitchen counter and taking out food container after food container. Jason stares in shock at the amount.

Alfred outdoes himself.

"I'm aware."

"Without warning," despite Dick's upbeat tone, there's a dangerous edge.

Jason shrugs, seating himself down on the couch to watch Dick shrewdly inspect all he could of the kitchen while stacking away food.

"Needed change of scenery," he says. Lie coming easy. "Happens."

"This have to do with your friend?"

_Sly dog._

He has a feeling Dick wasn't here for Jason's polite company.

"Nope." Leaning elbows on knees, he eyes his brother carefully. "Lemme guess, Bruce asked you to snoop."

"Hardly," Dick snorts, drumming his fingers on a pyrex dish. Which meant yes. "I'm, well, glad you're making friends."

"Your suspicion gives me such delight, Dick," Jason smiles sarcastically. "Please, continue with the interrogation Bruce ordered. Better yet," he gestures wildly in a dare, "inspect my whole apartment for whatever you think is going on. I'm sure Daddy Bats would appreciate the extension homework."

Dick looks at him with a hint of self-deprecation. "I'm not here for Bruce, I want to hear about my little brother's first friend."

"Don't let Harper hear you say that."

"Alright, your first civilian friend."

The insinuation is there and Jason grabs the edges of the running cover story, pulling it towards him in haste. "True."

For an instant Jason sees the shadow of Dick's suspicion threaten to snub his lie.

Contrary to the man's sunny disposition, by nature Dick was a sceptical spirit. Something people often wrote off as being overwhelmingly nosy – not a symptom of something far more nefarious and irritating. It led to Dick taking whatever came out of people's mouths with a pinch of salt, raised eyebrows and prompt background check.

But even the most suspicious of souls get swayed by what they want to hear

"If you to go out of your way to tell everybody I'll sic Alfred on you."

"I would  _never_."

Whether or not Blue will be willing 'play nice' with Dick's friends, Jason's uncertain.

"The guy need's a 'handle with care' warning sign attached to him at all times," he warns with the appropriate amount of tempered anger. "If your hero friends start hounding his sorry ass all at once for their own sake of curiosity he'll have a nervous fuckin' breakdown and I'll never hear the end of it."

Dick looks genuinely confused and pleased all at once. "How did  _you_  manage to find such a guy?"

"He gets perpetually mugged like it's an addiction," he half-shrugs. "Every now and then I spot him and jump in to help. It's an unwilling acquaintanceship."

"Who knew your habit of taking in strays would have followed you into adulthood," Dick snickers to himself and places what looked to be spaghetti in the fridge. The callous Nightwing side seems to slip off back to sleep and Jason relaxes minutely. "Alright, I'll keep this hidden friend of yours to myself for now." His brother spares a severe look, "Because I trust your judgement."

And Jason almost feels bad.

Almost.

Because he remembers Dick's involvement with Bruce and Arkham.

Remembers the betrayal, the straight jackets and hearing Joker's laughter down the hall from 'therapy'.

He remembers all this. Says, "How thoughtful of you," and asks Dick how his day's been.

Dick mentions a shootout that happened a couple blocks down along with a mysterious death.

Jason keeps his expression appropriately still.

.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof.
> 
> Jason and Kakashi have finalised their agreement with a pinch of murder.
> 
> Honestly people, stop attacking poor Kakashi. He's already on Batman's bad side, now he's on Dick's radar! In both good and bad ways!
> 
> Next chapter: Jason and Kakashi plotting plotting plotting...and...is that Sukea?


End file.
